


Something to Warm You or the Food of the Gods.

by Sookiestark



Series: He Who Tastes Love Never Dines Alone [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/M, Food, Food as a Metaphor for Love, cocoa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-18
Updated: 2019-06-08
Packaged: 2019-10-31 03:32:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17841647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sookiestark/pseuds/Sookiestark
Summary: Two different times Alyn Velaryon served cocoa to a family member





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So here is my story on cocoa- If you are going to have a piece about food and love, you have to include chocolate. This will be two chapters .. The second one is a bit sweeter than the first.

132 AC

It was the Hour of the Bat when his manservant had gently woken the Lord of the Tides. Alyn Velaryon had been not really been woken from his sleep. He did not sleep well at the Driftmark. He preferred to sleep at sea or in the large house his mother had raised him in by the shipyard. It was too quiet here in the Driftmark and he never truly felt like he belonged here. After all, it should be Addam's. All of this should have been his brothers.

Alyn tried to shake off his deepest insecurities as he walked the halls. He had been woken because his cousin, Baela Targaryen was here. She had come to the door, wet and cold from the winter storms that raged outside. The steward had tried to get her a warm bath, a good room, and something to eat and he would wake his Lord in the morning with the news of her visit. At that, Baela had screamed she would kill the man if he did not wake Alyn immediately to speak with her. She said it was an emergency and she needed to speak to Alyn right away. The morning would be too late. Though he had his suspicions, he wondered why his cousin had come in the dead of the night and what she was the crisis.

Truth be told, he did not like Baela all that much. She was hot-tempered, too bold, and too critical. He preferred her twin sister, Rhaena. Rhaena was polite, well-spoken, witty, loyal, graceful and sweet. Rhaena had been much more to his liking. Of course, because of her sweetness, her manners, and her goodness, Rhaena had always kept Alyn at a polite distance. Baela, with her penchant for collecting odd characters, seemed to be much more attracted to Alyn.

Alyn pulled his Meereenese robe around himself. He had found it in Braavos and had to buy it. He hadn't even bartered with the trader. Alyn had liked the look of it. But also he liked the way it made him look like an old royal from an ancient kingdom. However, it was chilly in the Driftmark during winter and the robe was made for a warmer climate. 

When he arrived at his study, though he still thought of it as the Sea Snake's study, Baela was there with a sword on his hip. She was wearing black leather armor and it was tight fitting and modeled around her body. Her hair was silver and tied back and she had a towel and a blanket. Her face was all anger. The scars from Sunfyre were still on her cheek but Alyn liked the look of her face with them. She looked a bit like a warrior woman from a primitive land with tattoos on her face to show her victories in battle. Alyn liked the proud way she held herself. Baela was a proud woman, even when she had nothing to be proud of. He needed to learn that skill from her.

She had been crying. Somewhere in the darkness, he felt a flash of protective anger. What had happened? Had someone hurt her?

"They want me to marry an old fat fool," she said, "I was destined to be the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Now, they want me to marry an ancient fat idiot who will never satisfy me. I will be crushed by his fat and lose my hand searching for his cock." 

Baela wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close. She was crying against his neck. Alyn knew she was upset. He could tell by her crying. Although when one hand trailed down to grab his buttocks, he knew she had come for other reasons as well. 

Alyn was not stupid. He might be young but he was a man who had traveled. At sixteen, he had bedded four women, and only two were whores. He was no fool to the way her hand lay on his body. Alyn looked at her, pulling away gently to see her. Her purple eyes were bright and her pupils were wide. Even though the skin on her left side was rough and ruined, she was still lovely to him, like a princess of Valyria. The best part was she was eager and in his arms. 

But there was something more than her desire. There was the fact she had come to him for protection. Baela Targaryen, once to be the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, had come to him. She had seen him as the most powerful man who could help defend her. She saw him as a man powerful enough to protect her. He smiled. It was heady stuff. Alyn spoke, feeling protective, "Your hands are cold and your skin is almost blue. We must warm you up." 

He sent the manservant to find warm clothes, another blanket and to wake the kitchen. Lord Velaryon wanted something to warm her, something special.

In less than twenty minutes, the manservant was back. Alyn had the fire roaring and Baela was naked, her wet clothes in a pile. Alyn had tried not to watch her as she undressed to give her privacy. But she had teased him saying he was a maid and could not look. Alyn had thought to correct her but he did not want to give her anything she might use against him. Baela seemed to have a cruel streak and a sharp tongue. He had wanted to look, watch her take off her clothes, kiss her softly but he had this suspicion that this was a joke of some kind and he did not want to appear too eager or too willing. 

He held up a cup to her. It was richly decorated and exotic. Alyn was very proud of it. Baela did not notice. Alyn continued speaking, "I found this on one of my journeys you must try it. They call it cocoa. It is crushed beans with warm milk and sugar. it is so delicious.  


Baela let the blanket slip from her shoulder. "It sounds like a child’s drink. I need ale or rum to warm me. Perhaps, you could warm my blood. A little maiden in my bed 

He smiled. "Perhaps... but first try this, Baela. You will never say it is a child's drink again. Taste it.." 

He wanted to tell Baela of the woman who had shown him how to make this on a lonely island between Tyr and Lys. She had been a novice of some god or goddess. Younger than him, brown-eyed, she had crushed the beans with her strong calloused hand using a mortar and a pestle. In her tiny temple room, she had made him keep stirring the cream. Finally, when she had held the steaming cup to his lips, Alyn was certain he was drooling. The smell and the closed space was overwhelming. The girl had said, "Taste it. It is the food of the gods." 

Alyn remembered thinking how he was certain if the gods existed they would drink this drink. In that small warm room, the humidity outside was so thick you could drown. He could hear someone chanting somewhere. Alyn thought surely this was as close as he would get to a spiritual encounter. The taste had been sweet and creamy, decadent, as sweet as the feeling a beautiful woman had come to your house in the night. He wanted to tell Baela how magical it had been. He wanted to tell her it was the food of the gods. 

The Lord of the Tides wanted to tell her, but looking at her, he did not think she cared or would think the story magical. Alyn did not want to tell her if she would not think it special. She was uninterested in his stories. She was here for things other than to get to know him or learn his stories. Alyn bit his lip and handed her the cup. "Taste it. It is something to warm you up."

 

She took a sip and smiled, "Alyn, what is it?' 

"Cocoa. I am trying to see if the beans can be grown in Dorne." 

With one deep gulp, with no regard to how hot it would be, Baela drank the rest of her cup. Alyn wondered if she had even tasted it. He took a deep drink and wondered how much it mattered. He had been slightly hard since she had embraced him and now, his cock threatened to break his pants he was so hard.

She spoke wiping her lips with the back of her hand. "It is delicious."

Baela stood up and greedily pushed him to the chair behind him. In the release of her hand, her blanket fluttered to the floor. She spoke, "I won't marry Manderly. I think I found my husband. Give me a taste." 

Alyn set his cup on the table beside him gently. The sweetness of the cocoa lingered on his lips. Baela was laughing as she climbed astride him. In a move that was anything but innocent, she expertly untied his pants. Alyn took both his hands and put them on her ribcage below her breasts. Whispering, he said, "We can go to my room. 

"We will," she said, "but I want a taste here. A little something to warm me up."


	2. Chapter 2

172 A.C. 

Lord Alyn Velaryon was aching and tired and as he ran his fingers through his silver hair. He took his jacket off and slipped into a Norvoshi robe lined with fur that was the softest he had ever felt. He sat in a big soft chair in front of his fireplace. Inside the fireplace was a fire burning bright. Even with his fire, Alyn could hear the icy rain tapping against his windows. It was winter again. It had made him nostalgic. He had been thinking how many winters he had seen in his life and he had decided that he had seen too many. Perhaps, this would be his last. The Oakenfist’s body hurt a great deal these days and he had decided that he was old and tired. Maybe, he was weary. Lately, he had thought about Daemon Targaryen and his last words recorded were how he had agreed that he had lived too long. Alyn was starting to agree with the man.

It was not that he had a bad life. In fact, Alyn had had an extraordinary life. He had traveled all over the world, fought in several wars, seen most of the wonders of the world, flown on the back of a dragon with his brother, amassed a fortune of wealth and treasures, and was a Great Lord from an influential House. He had two wonderful children and married a woman who was legendary in her own right, Baela Targaryen, sister to the new King, aunt to the old King. Alyn knew he had lived no ordinary life but still, he felt an emptiness, a sadness. He could not place why he felt it but he could not shake it. He had no reason for such melancholy. 

 

He wished Baela had stayed and comforted him in his melancholy but she had left King's Landing even before King Baelor was put in the ground. Where she went Alyn did not know but if he had an inclination, he would be able to find her. She was like a wounded dragon and when injured would return to her lair for safety and healing. Of course, Alyn had no desire to find her.

When they were younger, Alyn would play this game with her where she would have some slight against him, real or imagined, and he would beg, charm, or persuade her to forgive him. Absently, he rubbed the scar on his stomach where his wife had stabbed him decades ago in her anger. Let Baela hide somewhere where she could nurse her anger at him. Whatever she might be angry for, Baela had chosen to not share it with him. He was tired of this strange dance they had as if they played at war; always fighting, always bleeding. 

Alyn and Baela had always had these dark times in their marriage but when they were younger, they would also have good times. The good times where they could understand each other without speaking, where she would laugh at all his jokes, where he would find her every night in his bed, where everything was easy and so good. However, it had been years since he could remember any good times with Baela. For years, it had only been her anger and bitterness.

The Oakenfist had spent the last hour or two eating dinner with Prince Viserys, planning his coronation which would be in a fortnight. Alyn had always liked Viserys. He was a good man with a great deal of sense and a better personality than his brother or his nephew, the dead King, Baelor. Prince Viserys had kept the kingdom safe, healthy and well for decades and Alyn could think of no Targaryen better suited to sit on the Iron Throne. He had said this at the Council to decide who would be the next ruler.

The only other choice was Daena, Aegon III’s eldest daughter and KIng Baelor’s wife. She was a fiery, impulsive, strong-willed girl with a temper. Recently, she had given birth to a bastard, Daemon. Daena refused to say who the father was but Alyn knew anyway. He didn’t fault Daena for having a bastard. After all, King Baelor had refused to consummate his marriage. But Daena reminded him a bit too much of Baela. Alyn knew with no doubt that his wife’s temperament would be ill-suited to rule and he believed the same would be true of Daena.

 

With the cold rain outside, Alyn had decided to make himself some cocoa to drink. He often did this self-soothing ritual of making the deliciously sweet chocolate drink, especially when he was feeling nostalgic or rundown, Tonight he was feeling all of these things. He needed something delicious and restorative, something sweet.

 

The kitchen staff had already brought the sweetened powder and kettle with the warmed cream. But he had pulled out his old bowl and the pestle to crush the beans. Alyn felt like he wanted to spend some time crushing beans while he thought. 

He knew who the father of Daena’s child was. After all, he had helped Prince Aegon sneak into the Maidenvault where all the Targaryen princesses, sisters to the King, had been kept, locked up away from temptation. Alyn did not really like Aegon. He could name what he did not like about him but the feeling was there nonetheless. Alyn had orchestrated the whole affair out of boredom. Ten years of rule by King Baelor the Blessed had been too quiet for his old adventuring heart. Perhaps, there was a treasure locked away that he might lay his eyes upon. 

They had broken into the Maidenvault four times. Aegon had taken to Daena immediately and they had spent all the time in the curtained canopied bed. Princess Rhaena had prayed for most of the time. Alyn had passed each clandestine minute talking to Princess Elaena. Elaena was beautiful and smart. Unlike Daena, she was not overly sexual but there was a sweetness to her. Princess Elaena was curious and full of wonder and it reminded him of her mother, Queen Daenaera. Once, long before she was Queen, Daenaera had been his ward and he had always loved her as if she were his niece or his sister. When Queen Daenaera had died, Alyn had wept for the loss of her.

Elaena had been the treasure locked away in the Maidenvault. He had come back with Aegon to see her. On the last time, Aegon had asked him if he was fucking Elaena. Alyn had said no but then he had wondered what he was playing at. Elaena was the age of his grandchildren and she knew nothing of the world since her imprisonment. All she had were religious books and histories approved by King Baelor. 

Quickly, Alyn had realized that he was taking advantage of the Princess, of her innocence. Since her release, Alyn had avoided Princess Elaena entirely, hoping she would fall in love quickly with a young lord or knight, more suitable. However, sometimes his thoughts would drift to Elaena and the way her eyes would sparkle or the sound of her laugh. 

Alyn was interrupted by a knock on the door he brushed his hand over his clothes and opened the door. Perhaps, King Viserys had come back. Or maybe Prince Aegon. It was neither of them. Instead, Princess Elaena was standing there with fingers stained with ink and a book in her hands, Six Times to Sea. The Voyages of Alyn Oakenfist. 

She spoke, gesturing to the book protectively, “Nuncle I was hoping we could speak more about this book? About your voyages?”

“Elaena, of course, come in.” 

 

She was quick and light. He reminded him of birds in cages in ports he had been, fluttering and looking for a space to land, for sweet fruit, for a steady hand to tame them. Her mother, Daenaera, had died in childbirth with her. Elaena needed touch and kindness. He had seen the motherly way Naerys had with her, but nine years in the Maidenvault had not slowed this restless energy. 

Smiling, Alyn gestured for her to sit as he spoke, “I was making myself something warm to drink. When it is a cold night, I make it. It is called cocoa. One day, when you are old like me, you will get sentimental when a chill settles in your bones and the world is grey and dark and damp. It helps fortify me for the winter. I have plenty for two.

Elaena watched as he crushed the beans with mortar and pestle. Elaena pointed to the decorations on the bowl, “Lord Alyn, what is this? Where is it from?”

“This bowl is from the Stepstones, near Lys. I believe they are variations of the strange gods of Lys. Your Aunt Larra once told me all the names of these characters.” 

“Did she give it to you?”

He smiled, “No.. A young novice on a tiny island at the edge of the Stepstones did. She took me in her temple showed me how to make cocoa. We didn’t leave all night or the next day. She said if I left her she would curse me with her gods..”

She looked at him, her eyes were huge, filled with dreams, ‘Nuncle Alyn, would you take me on one of your voyages?”

He looked at her, “Where would you like to go, Elaena?” 

As she sat, she spoke, “Anywhere but here… Tell me about your priestess.”

As he prepared the cocoa, Alyn told her the story of the novice and her hut. He felt his smile as he spoke of the darkness of her room, the strong hands of the girl, the rhythm, the smells, the taste, the magic he felt in that small place. Elaena listened, her eyes wide and overbright. She looked interested and eager. 

When he handed the cup of steaming liquid, she inhaled deeply and sighed. Her eyes were reverent. Alyn spoke, carefully, “Be careful. It is hot.” 

He thought about another cold rainy night so long ago and bit his lip. She was not Baela. Alyn spoke. “Be careful... this is more than something to warm you. This is the food of the Gods. So the priestess told me when she made it for me. It brings us nearer to them. It is a taste of Heaven.”

Elaena smiled and took a sip and he watched her face brighten and explode with the taste. Instinctively, Elena closed her eyes, better to savor the taste by shutting out her other senses. With the impulse of a younger man, Alyn touched her chin, running his thumb over her smooth cheek. How long had he wondered what her skin would feel like under his sea-weathered hand?

Elaena opened her eyes from his touch and Alyn felt his heart flutter. When she looked at him, he did not feel so old. He felt young, heroic, alive. Perhaps he was not so old after all. 

Alyn reluctantly took his hand from her face. Reaching up, she took his hand in hers. 

“More,” Elaena said

For a moment, Alyn wondered if she wanted more cocoa or more of his touch and thought it safer if he poured her another glass. He wanted her to stay but he did not want to ruin her. He was an old man married to a bitter woman and she deserved more, much more than what he could give. Slowly, he poured her another cup and sat down to tell her the stories she wanted to hear. Perhaps, he didn’t have to decide tonight and he could warm himself with her company. After all, on cold rainy winter nights, everyone needed sweetness to fortify themselves against the dark.


End file.
